Tactile
by Oh Moneypenny
Summary: He loved it when Harvey was still asleep, or maybe half asleep, and his hands would move over his hips and tug him close. It was always the same. It would start with the feeling of exploring fingers playing over his skin slowly, then the sure, firm palm would come down to cup his hip and he would feel the pull to be tugged into the cocoon of warm safety that was Harvey. - v. fluffy


Mike loved Harvey when he was sleepy. At first it had been a surprise, it had been too much, too _beautiful_, to see Harvey easy and warm, with heavy lidded eyes and the ghost of stubble on his jaw. It had been all softness and warmth: the oh-so-touchable cotton t-shirt that covered Harvey's torso; Mike just couldn't help but slip his fingers around the hem, his fingertips stroking the material, and the backs of his fingers brushing the smooth, tanned skin of Harvey's hip; the feel of Harvey's breath murmuring across his skin –a lover's silent whisper in his ear; and the gloriously soft moment when Harvey's eyelashes would flutter and move, slowly, until Mike could see the brown eyes he adored so much, and he knew the tiny smile in them was right there mirrored in his own blue eyes.

He loved it when Harvey was still asleep, or maybe half asleep, and his hands would move over his hips and tug him close. It was always the same. It would start with the feeling of exploring fingers playing over his skin slowly, then the sure, firm palm would come down to cup his hip and he would feel the pull to be tugged into the cocoon of warm safety that was Harvey. Sometimes he would end up with his head tucked snug in the juncture of Harvey's neck, tangling his legs with him and running hands up his arms and into the hair that was his – and only his - to mess up. He would hear the soft groan of pleasure from somewhere in the back of Harvey's throat, and then purr in his own pleasure when he felt Harvey's fingertips slowly find a patch of exposed skin and stroke: the fingertips would brush, then turn, and it would be the movement of fingernails over skin that would make Mike push closer into him with another quiet noise of happiness. But then sometimes he would end up with his back tucked against Harvey's warm chest, his legs melting against Harvey's as he felt the slight weight of his forehead touch the back of his neck and hands snake around his middle to link; hands which Mike promptly covered with his own, fingers interlocking until he wasn't sure where his hands stopped and Harvey's started.

They were both at their most unguarded on these mornings; when it was hazy light filtering through the curtains and neither of them could be bothered to open their eyes properly. This was when they touched without thinking about the result and when Harvey didn't care about his hair and Mike didn't care about his past. Harvey's nose would brush against Mike's temple while his hand moved slowly over his ribs, reassuring yet provocative in every one of his touches.

On one particular morning, Mike woke first, Harvey's chest as his pillow and an arm keeping him warm. He turned his face into Harvey's chest and murmured softly; glad there was no t-shirt covering Harvey's bare chest. He moved hand from beneath the sheets to splay across his skin, his fingertips pressing and flexing as he felt Harvey's pulse beat slowly under his palm. He closed his eyes again, relaxing as he melted in against Harvey, only to be roused by a hand covering his own. He smiled against Harvey's sleep-warm skin and pulled their linked hands close, pressing a tiny kiss to Harvey's thumb nail. He heard the rumble of Harvey sighing and felt him stretch, but made a noise to indicate that he was unwilling to move from his position. Harvey's free hand moved to his back, fingers working up his spine gently making him sigh again in undefended bliss.

Harvey's hands were never as demanding in the early morning sun. His fingers were gentler, his palms softer, his grip less possessive but still claiming on Mike's pale skin. Rather, his fingertips would seek out those little spots of sensitivity and rub in tiny circles, or his fingers would walk across his skin slowly, a pause after every couple of steps to test the reaction and then they'd move again seeking the point that would make Mike sigh, or moan, or whisper Harvey's name. His thumb would sweep over the point on the inside of Mike's wrist and then move to the ridge of his collarbone, his fingers never really following a pattern.

Mike's lips would never stay in one place while they lounged in bed on hazy mornings. He loved the slight abrasiveness of Harvey's morning stubble under his tongue, the feel of Harvey's lower lip between teeth and the sensation of Harvey's naked back all laid out for him to press slow, open-mouthed kisses to, which made Harvey hum with contentment, his face pressing into the soft pillows as Mike made trails with his lips over Harvey's shoulder blades, his fingers moving over the back of hips and then the nape of his neck.

During these lazy hours, they would barely talk. Their eyes would meet to say '_good morning_' and their lips would clash to tell of their desire. It was easy and languorous touches that let the other know how they felt, and little moans and whispers that checked the other was okay and nothing, nothing at all, was wrong. Their hands would slide and brush and hold as they felt necessary, there was never an overdone gesture and never the need for anything more.

It was always nice to wake up and not feel the sheets moving off of him as Harvey got up to start his day with coffee and a hot shower, his energy taking great leaps ahead of Mike's as he struggled to leave the comfort of the bed. Rather, it was nice to wake up without the alarm buzzing or Harvey's voice barking that he was running late, it was lovely to instead be woken by the feel of Harvey's lips tracking lazily across his jaw towards that soft spot just behind his ear and the warmth of the luxury sheets wrapped around him.

Whenever they knew they didn't have to go into the office the next day, they never wished for sweet dreams, they wished for a few hours of uninterrupted peace with just each other. No ringing phones, no harassed clients; just their lips and their hands and their eyes exploring one another for the hundredth time.


End file.
